Chapter 0 - Jiya Khan

Jamir Khan wordlessly handed over a scrap of paper to Jiya, on which was scrawled in red the words WE KNOW ABOUT YOUR SISTER. It was scribbled large on multiple restaurant napkins, folded and smudged away, thankfully discovered when one of the staff opened shop for the day rather than by some customer later on. They had to throw out all the napkins; it was either that or painstakingly go through each one.

Jamir was clueless (or was he?) about the kinds of things Jiya had had to get up to in order steer their business to where it was today, a now mid-sized eatery in the Yau Ma Tei district, reminiscent of old Hong Kong vibes. Was this an escalation against the restaurant in general, or directly targeted at Jiya? Who was pushing back? Jamir stood there in the tiny back office when Jiya arrived as night descended, dinner service about to start, waiting for her response.

Jiya stared at the napkins, carefully keeping her face neutral as thoughts raced within her head. "Threats, this early in the evening?" She tried to smile disarmingly at her brother. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's just some disgruntled former staffer. Or that neighboring ma-and-pa place we ran out of business last month. Plenty of people with a grudge and a need to lash out. Don't worry about it, I'll handle it."

Like I always do. Jamir didn't ask much anymore about her 'side of the business', but her brother was no fool. He had to know it wasn't just luck that had turned the business around.

WE KNOW ABOUT YOUR SISTER. Well, there was quite a bit to know. She had written her own share of blackmail notes, enough to recognize one instinctively. But was this about things she had done? Or something more troubling...? A hungry, grumbling growl, not quite from her stomach, but from something more vile and bestial deep within, made itself known.

If this were blackmail, then it was cowardly of them not to have come directly at Jiya, but to circle round through her brother instead. What would be the point of that? It was true that Jiya's influence in the local underground was well-established. The Hong Kong triads had their turfs and rackets, and gang conflicts were fought in the shadows, sometimes spilling out into the open. But the triads largely observed their central code of honour, challenges where needed were properly issued, threats splashed on walls, not hidden in paper serviettes.

Unless this was a demand of a different kind, regarding her masquerade. Her family was in the dark (or were they?). Who would know, and why would they choose to come at her this way? If Jiya were patient, she would sit back and wait for the threats to escalate. But that would only put her family and their business in danger. She could hear the growl of the beast within, urging her to be proactive, to hunt rather than be hunted.

Jamir mulled over her reply with a sullen look on his face. "The new girl freaked out and wants to quit! We don't need you to bring more trouble. Make it go away."

Jiya's anger at the situation caused her to want to strike back at this craven menace who dared to threaten her brother out of anonymity. They did not choose to come at her directly, which meant they wanted her family to be entangled. It was possible that this was the work of some disgruntled rival, Jiya weighed. She ruled out that a triad was behind this as this was not their modus operandi, given her clout they would have been more directly confrontational. That said, when it came to such matters of extortion, they might have some knowledge on the street. The Yau Ma Tei market, the largest in all Hong Kong and a landmark in its own right, from which their restaurant got their supplies, was reputedly backed by the Wo Shing triad.

If it were to do with the masquerade though, then she would be better off making inquiries amongst the kindred she knew. Or she could simply start with the most basic of investigative legwork: find out who broke into the restaurant just to vandalise the napkins, whether someone witnessed the act. Or she could leave this to her ghoul.

"I will deal with this." Jiya's tone was direct, curt, a little more forceful than intended. She didn't like arguing with her brother. She never had, and even less so now that some half-acknowledged, primal instinct told her the man in front of her was not her brother, not really. He was just food that mouthed off.

She suppressed that thought, and the snarl that wished to accompany it. Instead she smiled as meekly and apologetically as she could, like she would have done in those hazy days long past, when he had been in charge of the family. "Whatever this is, it's my mess to clean up. Go, have a drink, relax. It's late anyway."

Once she had a moment to herself, she began to focus on the mess at hand. A stray thought occurred to her that this might all be another test by Vittoria. But she brushed that thought away quickly. This was too direct, crude and amateurish for her sire. The last time she had been tested, or more accurately her brother had been, it had nearly driven her whole family into an early grave.

Someone else then. A Kindred bold enough to risk breaking the Masquerade? Or a mortal foolish enough?

Jiya got her coat, ready to head out. She had some connections in the seedier parts of the city, some threads she could pull at. A few reporters she knew how to drag some juicy intel out of. But when it came to making phone calls and scouring the internet, her curse made things frustratingly difficult.

She'd need to speak to Holstein. Her... secretary. Butler. Servant. Ghoul. The old man had uncovered the truth about her nature once, back when he was a nosy city official and she was a stupid, reckless, blood-drunk neonate barely a year past the grave. It was time to put those skills of his to use.

If Jiya understood correctly, Holstein lived in the Hong Kong before Jiya's family moved there. That would make him older, or at least the same generational age as Jiya's grandfather. Jiya's idea of cementing the friendship that Holstein and her grandfather had was to bond him to her, effectively preventing him from ageing any further. The clever old man was the first to figure out how this Khan was different from the rest of her siblings. If there was someone who had a nose for investigation, it would be canny Holstein.

Jamir didn't appreciate Jiya's brush off, "Easy for you to say. I'm telling you business will be bad tonight." He stomped off, looking like he was about to vent his fear and frustration to the service staff. There was no point in pottering about the restaurant with Jamir like that; if Jiya did, things would just get worse. Besides, she did definitely intend to take care of this situation. But instead of heading out, she decided to go back home first, to see Holstein.

Jiya stifled a sigh. She loved her brother, she really did. She was certain she still did. But dealing with him could get so very aggravating.

No use wasting time. As she headed out, Jiya felt that familiar growling of hunger rising. She would have to deal with that as well before the night was through.

She had her methods for handling that. Methods she had established long before she died.
If sufficiently motivated, people were always willing to pay for safety. For protection. To simply be left alone.
Jiya dying had only changed one thing; now she took her payment in red instead of green.

But before she could worry about her next meal, she first had to put her ghoul to work.

Her current apartment was nothing noteworthy, but that was wholly by design. Ostentatious displays of wealth only drew the wrong kind of attention. Instead the place was exactly what it needed to be, and nothing more. Enough room for her and her ghoul to work without getting in each others way. The only window was facing a brick wall and thus nobody noticed that it had been covered up since she had moved in.

She dropped the scribbled-on napkins on the table in front of Holstein. "Someone's decided to send me a message, Alexander."